He thought of the monitoring systems embedded in every wall, ARIS listening to every word and tracking every movement.
“You’re never really alone here, are you?” he said carefully.
“What do you mean?”
“ARIS. It’s always watching. Always aware of where you are and what you’re doing.”
“Oh. That.” She shrugged, turning back to the stove. “I suppose. But it’s not the same as having a person present. Ari is...” She searched for the word. “Constant. Reliable. But not... company. Not in the way I think real company must feel.”
Not in the way you feel.She didn’t say it out loud, but he heard it anyway, in the slight hesitation before she continued cooking, in the quick glance she threw over her shoulder to make sure he was still there.
“The bread,” she announced, pulling the cloth off the risen dough. “I need to shape it and get it in the oven. It’ll be another hour before it’s ready, but the stew should be done by then.”
“Take your time.”
She smiled at him again with that smile that seemed to hold nothing back, that gave itself completely to the moment, and began working the dough.
He watched her, thinking about everything he’d learned from the AI. He thought about surveillance systems and protective directives and a man who’d built a tower to hide his daughter from the world.
She has healing blood. She’s been isolated since infancy. The AI was programmed to keep her contained forever, regardless of what she wants.
How could he get her out of here?
Because that was what he was going to do. The decision had crystallized somewhere between the greenhouse and this kitchen, settling into his bones with the certainty of truth. This female had been imprisoned for twenty-one years. She’d never seen the ocean except from a distance. Never walked on sand or felt rain on her face or experienced any of the thousand small freedoms that came with living in the world.
He was going to change that.
He didn’t know how yet. Didn’t know what obstacles the AI would throw in his path or what dangers waited outside these walls. But he knew, with a conviction that surprised him, that he wasn’t leaving this tower without her.
His beast growled its approval.
“You’re staring.”
Her voice broke through his thoughts. She was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and self-consciousness. A flush had crept into her cheeks.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was thinking.”
“About what?”
About how to rescue you from a prison you don’t even recognize. About what kind of man builds a tower to hide his daughter. About why I already care what happens to you.
“About how long it’s been since I had fresh bread,” he said instead.
Her face relaxed into pleasure. “Really? You’re looking forward to it?”
“I am.”
She turned back to her dough, but he could see the smile she was trying to hide. Such a small thing—a guest expressing anticipation for her cooking. Such a small thing, and it meant so much to her.
The AI says it’s protected her. Kept her alive and healthy. But it’s also starved her of everything that makes life worth living.
He sat at the table in his enemy’s stronghold, watching a female who didn’t know she needed saving, and began to plan.
CHAPTER NINE
The bread was perfect.
Liora knew this because Baylin had eaten three slices already, each one torn from the loaf with his hands and consumed with a focus that bordered on blissful. She tried not to stare, but watching someone eat food she’d prepared was a novelty she couldn’t quite get over. Every bite he took felt like a small victory, a confirmation that she’d done something right.
